pennies for all her thoughts
by Liberty Love and Roses
Summary: sometimes, she thinks that she thinks too much.— one-sided MariHenri, slight MariRui. Oneshot


**A**** Yume Pati fic! One of my very first anime and one that I hold dearly to my heart, and so I decided to write a fic for it, finally!**

**So, Mari: love her, and I felt so bad for her in Season 1, and I decided to make a fic out of it. I mixed in a lot of canon elements (from both anime and manga) and non-canon elements, so... yeah. **

**WARNING: Henri is portrayed as an asshole because he is an asshole, so if you like his character (I don't know why anybody would, tbh, but hey, I (maybe) won't judge if you do), don't read this. **

**I'll be surprised if anybody stumbles upon this fic, because nobody really reads or writes Yume Pati stories anymore (at least I don't think they do), but if you read this, please review!**

* * *

_pennies for all her thoughts_

_._

_._

_._

sometimes, she thinks that she thinks too much.— one-sided MariHenri, slight MariRui

* * *

Sometimes, she thinks he does it for fun; capturing the fragile hearts of young girls, letting them hope, all so he can crush them at the end.

Mari is the first victim. And she honestly thought it could have been possible, getting Henri to fall in love with her someday, somehow, but she feels her heart crack as he kisses another girl on the cheek.

The other girl is beautiful. French, with cheekbones carved from machetes and skin so stunningly luminous, and eyes a little lighter than ocean-blue to coordinate with his. She is tall, skinny, with blonde hair glistering under the chandelier lights, a femme fatale when she puts on red lipstick. She's sexy and mature, and she looks good with Henri, especially without the ugly burden of a juvenile crush.

Mari isn't strong enough to ignore it, move on.

And her team loses.

They lose, all because of her selfish, stupid crush, and they are acting like it's okay, but it's not.

She denies them of a victory they could have otherwise had.

This is all her fault.

* * *

She moves on — because it's that easy.

Except it's not.

Sometimes, she thinks he likes breaking hearts and then stringing them along into a deeper, much darker hole, where he likes to tease the innocent with a glimpse of light, and then blindfold them back into the shadows.

Mari doesn't think she's even the first anymore; the man is seasoned, a professional in his field. He knows how to give happiness, and he knows how to steal it back, and he knows it just a little too well, as if it's routine, a daily exercise.

Henri walks into the store, and Mari suddenly remembers that her heart is still broken.

Maybe he won't see her; maybe he will walk right past and save her the additional heartache.

("Maybe" is a two way street, Mari dear.)

"It's been a long time, Mari." He smiles, charming, glowing, and Mari almost wants to kiss that glimpse of light.

She doesn't. She knows better. This is his sick, sadistic torture.

"Yes," Mari replies, following a pause of wary hesitation, "it has."

She refrains from reciprocating his smile. He doesn't notice, or maybe he doesn't care.

He stares at the candy art, asks to try it. Mari doesn't say yes, but he takes it anyways.

"You've improved even more, Mari," he says, his disposition elegant, his manners graceful and polite. "I'm proud of you."

Is he now? She isn't sixteen anymore. Of course she's improved in candy art. Of course she doesn't actively seek his approval anymore.

Of course, one of those statements is a lie, but if Henri can play the game of deceit, why can't she? There is no difference; he is deceiving her, and she is deceiving herself.

"Thank you." She hopes she isn't blushing or smiling, that she is training neutrality in her visage, but the burn of her cheeks betray her.

This is wrong.

So Mari leaves as quickly as she can, but not before Henri kisses her on the cheek.

* * *

Mari is stronger than this.

She will not let herself slip back into that dark hole.

"Mari-_hime_?" She feels Rui's hand on her shoulder.

Sometimes, she thinks that maybe it's her; maybe Henri toys with her heart because she is weak, a dandelion in the wind, too easily swayed. She doesn't know how to build her walls strong enough.

Rui doesn't ask any questions when Mari turns around and rests her head on his shoulder. He hears her cry, and instantly pieces together the reason. And he lets her cry. He doesn't move, and he doesn't put her arms around her to pull her into a hug because that would be overstepping his limits.

What Mari wants is a friend to lean on; not some embrace of pity.

And if that is what she wants, that is what Rui will be.

* * *

Mari is twenty when Henri asks her to move to New York to help him run a Parisian pastry shop.

Sometimes, she thinks that she maybe enjoys the hurt; after all, why else would she accept?

She needs to draw the line somewhere, eventually, but this is neither the time nor place.

This is a massive opportunity, a chance to let her career blossom, so she can't refuse.

And she is about to say yes, but her heart speaks:

"I'm in love with you, Henri-_sensei_." This isn't what Mari wanted to say. This was meant to be a secret she buried with her to the grave. But what's done is done. Mari has to make it look intentional, even though she knows that he knows it isn't.

Her visage relays a calmness, and perhaps it infects her mentality, because Mari doesn't regret blurting it out. She's almost glad.

"I know," he says. He sets his teacup down, and he matches his glacial blues to her honey hues. He doesn't skip a beat. "And that is why, during the Grand Prix, I intentionally told Francois she was the best student I ever had in front of you, and I intentionally kissed her in front of you, too."

This is when Mari's calmness collapses and she slips back into a frenzy. Why is he telling her this? Is it a trick? A test? But he doesn't look like he's lying. She gulps. Then why on earth is he telling her this _now_? Mari isn't stupid; she knows what this implies— it's just that this is not something she asked to know. She didn't want to know this.

This is exactly what she was scared of.

"As in, it was all a ploy?" Mari laughs, broken, disbelieving laughs, as if she were hoping that Henri was lying (as if she were hoping that she was wrong).

"Yes," he replies, and something in her crumbles. He is still calm, almost indifferent, and Mari wonders just how he can say this to her with a straight face, with no hesitation, so smoothly as if they were merely discussing the weather. "To test you."

Mari can feel her bones turn arctic, she can feel the goosebumps span across her skin, and she can feel her cheeks and her stomach burn. "Test me? Test me on what?"

"Whether you were suited to become a pro patissiere."

And she laughs again. _God_, she really was just a game to him. She wants to scream how unfair it was of him, to handicap her like that, _knowing_ it would break her, and how cruel and despicable he is for thinking he could just toy with somebody's heart without repercussions.

Except, he did toy with someone's heart without repercussions, and Mari probably isn't the first victim. But Mari let him get away with it.

She still is letting him get away with it.

"I'll take responsibility for that store in New York," Mari says, changing the subject, her voice embittered, a shadow haunting her expression.

He smiles. He doesn't even feel guilty. "Great! That would be very helpful."

In the end, he still has her heart on a string, and Mari just doesn't know how to break away.

Without a word, without a bow, she leaves.

And she runs, but everywhere she goes, she can see Henri and Francois, taunting her, playing her for a fool, and a new kind of heartbreak locks her in her bedroom for four dawns, three dusks.

* * *

"Mari-_hime_."

Mari's back is pressed against the door. She hears Rui's voice, a soft, muffled murmur from the other side, but she doesn't open it.

There is pain in his voice, like his heart is breaking by watching her, and Mari buries her head into her knees.

Sometimes, she thinks she doesn't deserve Rui, because even though he never really supported the idea of her crush on Henri (Mari could tell, even if he didn't reveal it to her), he supported _her_. That's what mattered.

Mari still doesn't open the door. Instead, ten minutes pass and she tallies the number of ticks and tocks, a timer set up on her phone, challenging the concept of time, as if there could be less than six-hundred seconds— just, she needs _anything_ to distract her mind. Anything.

She could almost swear that she counted five-hundred-and-ninety-six before the ten minute mark on her timer goes off, but she pushes the thought aside, accepts it, adds it to her list of faults, opens the door.

It creaks softly, but it makes her flinch. Mari's scared, nervous, because she doesn't know what she's expecting (except she does know, and she's just trying to persuade herself otherwise because she is so _tired_ of feeling disappointed)—

—but there Rui is, leaning against the wall beside the door, blinking slowly and then jolting up when he sees her.

"Mari-_hi_—"

"You didn't leave?" Her voice is high, hopeful, and her heart somewhat soars, though Mari won't admit it.

His mouth is agape, twisting into shapes of words but devoid of sound, still trying to register his surprise. He breathes in deeply, hums out an affirmative. "I didn't leave," Rui finally says.

Mari nods and sits next to him, sliding down the wall, cocooning them both in her blanket. He looks initially confused, but he lets it happen.

"Thank you," she says, resting her head on his shoulder.

A minute passes in silence, and she can't hear the clock, but she can hear her heartbeat, though it's too fast for her to tally.

The minute passes and Mari's haphazardly counting her heartbeats before Rui reciprocates her actions and rests his head on top of hers.

(His lilt is benign, soft, _painful_.)

"Anything for you, princess."

* * *

"It hurts," Mari says to him in the morning, when they sit down by the balcony and she's making scones and he's preparing tea, "to be made a fool out of."

He looks at her grimly, running his finger through his blue locks, smoothening it out.

"But I've had enough," she continues. Mari walks over to the drawers and pulls out a pair of scissors. Rui raises a brow in puzzlement. "I'm not going to keep getting my heart broken like this."

Sometimes, she thinks that she thinks too much— maybe for once in her life, Mari needs to just stop thinking and start _being_; act on impulse and control her fate, her direction, and simply thrive on the thrill.

Mari grabs a fistful of hair and she—

— _she cuts it_. Rui's eyes widen in horror, and he almost drops his tea cup. The tea itself spills over the edge, trickles onto the strands of her hair scattered by his feet.

"Mari-_hime_!"

"I'm moving to New York." She faces him directly, her honey-hued eyes ablaze with renewed determination. "I'm going to build myself up from there, make a name for myself, achieve my dream."

"Mari—"

"Will you join me?" she intercepts, calm, unwavering.

Rui hesitates for a moment, but he puts his teacup down, approaches her. "Will you be able to move on?" he asks. "It's Henri-sensei's shop. You'll have to see him, occassionally."

"I'll just have to make it mine," Mari replies, a small grin on her lips. "It'll be difficult, but I'll manage. I can't keep holding myself back. But I can't do it alone."

"There will be plenty of capable people there."

"I don't doubt it," she agrees. "But you are my best support and you understand me, Rui. Nobody gets my ideas like you do, and nobody gets me like you do. I know it's selfish of me, but I want you to come with me."

Rui pauses, sighs, smiles. "Okay."

"You'll come?" Mari sounds almost surprised. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"_Yes_." He takes her hand (gently) into his. "I want to do this as well."

Mari smiles back, her cheeks slightly flushed, but she looks towards the sun, the _light, _and she doesn't see Henri anymore when she closes her eyes.

This is it: her new beginning.

But first:

"I should probably get my hair fixed before then."

"I don't know," Rui says, tucking her hair behind her ears, grinning at the disparities in length. "I kind of like it."

Mari looks away, reaches for her sunhat, places it over her hair, pulls it over her ears. "Don't tease me, Rui."

But he can still see the red of her ears anyways, poking out from beneath the hat, and he chuckles. "I wouldn't dare."

* * *

**So I may have rushed the ending a teensy bit, but I hope y'all enjoyed this! **

**Please review if you stumble upon this!**

_~Adieu!_

_X's and O's,_

_Liberty_


End file.
